TC-238 Mutual Palmistry
Mutual Palmistry
Trojan Classic
TC-238
Lance Rogers
$1.95
Mutual Palmistry
Trojan Classic
TC-238
Lance Rogers
$1.95
Mutual Palmistry
Foreword
The coach’s beautifully chiseled, marble-like ass kept contracting and relaxing, attesting to the fact that his nuts contained a tremendous load. His hands kept milking Tag’s still rocky-hard tube as his convulsions died away. Slowly, he began pulling out of Tag’s distended asshole, moaning as the exquisite agony of the still clutching sheath tortured the nerve endings of his punishing weapon.
Deke had spurted his volcanic charges all over the tiled floor in front of him by now and tried to squeeze out the last few, tardy drops from his urethra with his thumb and forefinger. For a moment, he actually wanted them to catch him, but he decided against that and retreated to his bench where he picked up a discarded towel and wiped his cock and his right hand free from the viscous residue.
He was the picture of innocence when Tag and Coach Andrews walked from the shower with towels around their waists and pretending to talk seriously about basketball. “Deke—what are you doing here so early? Why aren’t you in class?” Andrews asked, surprised to see anyone in the locker room.
“My dad took me out for lunch and we were late in getting back so I just came to my next class,” Deke explained, trying not to look smug. He wanted them to know that he had seen them so he might join them the next time, but his courage fled. He did do one thing though-he sat there naked with his thighs spread so they could see his prick which had lost its hardness, but none of its size nor its circumference. Both Tag and Coach Andrews devoured the sight with their eyes and Deke saw an unsaid communique pass between them and he read it correctly—hunger!
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